


The Legend of the Angel

by jediclarinetist



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Altean Lance (Voltron), Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Alternate Universe - Superheroes/Superpowers, Angel Lance (Voltron), Bard Merla, Blind Keith (Voltron), D&D Undertones, Elves, Gender-Neutral Pronouns for Keith (Voltron), Keith and Zethrid are siblings, Multi, Pining Keith (Voltron), Telepath Keith (Voltron), Wizard Pidge, wrong pronoun usage
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-05-04
Updated: 2019-05-11
Packaged: 2020-02-25 23:05:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,981
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18711499
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jediclarinetist/pseuds/jediclarinetist
Summary: Pidge Holt is a Concordian soldier, an entrepreneur, and an accomplished mage. He's also a mutant and an elf. But he's not really a guy.Dr. Keith Kogane is the chief medical officer of the Temple of Concordia. He's also blind and telepathic. Unfortunately, he's pretty bad at feelings anyway.Lance McClain is known as the Angel. He's widely known for his heroism. He's less widely known for his daddy issues.Merla Brokenglade is the leader of the M.A.K.C. and also plays her viol frequently in taverns. Her life is simple, until she falls in love with Pidge Holt at first sight.





	1. Chapter I; Vampire

**Author's Note:**

> This is a pretty distant AU from space lions. Basically, using druidic magic, the founders of Concordia(Haggar Xanthas and Zarkon McClain) created the mutants, which have animals mixed in with their humanity. They were intended to protect the world from crime, but one of the first mutants, Alfor McClain, thought Concordia to be too soft, and he founded his own peacekeeping organization, Pacificus, which wished to rid the world of all evil. Pidge Holt has been sent to retrieve a lost mutant, Romelle, and bring her back to Concordia, but is caught up in a massacre that kills Romelle's family.

City of Krairmond, Krairmond Mountains

1204-04-24

Pidge Holt sat in his black carriage, watching for his target and noticing absentmindedly that his horse, Inky, was twitching rather strangely. 

He saw her then, a perhaps fifteen year old human girl whose name is Romelle Neverwinter. The girl had impractically long blonde hair and light skin. He was supposed to be returning her to her rightful home, the fair nation of Concordia, the place where Pidge was born, and then schooled… but that’s beside the point. Romelle was a mutant, enhanced in the womb with the prowess of animals, using powerful druidic magic, and she didn’t even know it. It was time to open her world. However, he tended to…  _ scare _ … humans when they first met him. The tales of blood-drinking vampires helped him none. He did not drink blood, nor had he any desire to, and he certainly was not a vampire–but with his snow-white skin, curly auburn hair and those little fangs peeking out from his upper lip, in addition to his black plate mail, most humans assume that he wanted to feed on them.

Just as he readied himself to exit the carriage and to tolerate the inevitable stares he would get, a fireball exploded on the street before him. He barely had time to whisper the words  _ haizea gordetzeko _ , and he was surrounded by deafening wind which blew the flames away from him, protecting him and Inky from harm. He knew that a more selfless person would have protected the civilians and not himself, and perhaps he would have had he had a moment to think over the situation… no, he was not quite dedicated enough to Concordia to give his life for it just yet. Once the blaze had died down, he saw scorched bodies lying motionless on the beach, and wondered vaguely if his trip had all been for nought. The city of Krairmond was closer to Concordia than the other major city in the area, but it’s still a treacherous journey over leagues of high, snowy mountains. Pidge would rather not return alone if he didn’t have to; though he was quite used to being alone, as he didn’t make a habit of keeping friends, it’s a rather lonely and cold journey with no company. When he was alone, he tended to talk to himself, which was fine and not at all abnormal unless someone overheard him, in which case it did not seem fine at all.

He managed to get his wandering mind back on the situation at hand. He noticed as he stepped out of the carriage a small pile of dark-skinned mostly-nude bodies, under which appears to be the fallen body of Romelle—no, she was moving; Pidge could see the slight rise and fall of her chest, though it seemed rather weak. 

“Are you alright?” he said, walking over to her and, kneeling, placing a gentle hand on her arm. 

“You’re- you’re one of the mutants,” declared Romelle, sitting up fully to look at him and shuffling away from him. She was wearing a plain white tunic stained with what was undoubtedly the blood of her family. 

“Without a doubt,” Pidge responded, smirking a bit. His fangs became more noticeable when he wore his face that way.  “But I am not one of the bad ones.”

“What do you want with me?” she asked, standing up and brushing herself off, which did little to decrease how sandy and bloody she was, and she took a defensive position.

“Well, to put it simply, you are also a mutant, Romelle.”

She shook her head violently, looking frightened.

“Your powers may be hidden, but in any case you are one of us,” Pidge asserted.

“...How do you know?” she asked, taking another step back. He was not certain he could catch her if she might decide to flee, but he could probably stop her with magic.

“Yes. You were magically enhanced by the powers of animals. While your mother was with child, your humanity was… kershuffled…” Pidge broke off, a crease forming in his brow as he winced internally.

“Kershuffled.” Romelle looked as skeptical as Pidge felt.

“I’m sorry, I…” he responded, trailing off again. “I have social anxiety. Please just come with me.”

“You realize that my parents just died, right?”

“I am very sorry for your loss. We have therapeutic services in Concordia. Please do not use me as your therapist. I would most likely end up increasing your sadness and discomfort.” The crease in his brow had not yet disappeared; and, he supposed, it never really did. Even his smiles looked a bit concerned.

“Well, emotional suppression  _ is _ one of my main selling features. I’m sure this will all come out in therapy twenty years from now.” She looked, despite her brave words, simultaneously anxious and heartbroken. Pidge couldn’t blame her; she’d suffered horribly these past few minutes, and he was frankly surprised she was as functional as she is.

Despite his inner sympathy, Pidge smirked evilly. “Only if you live that long. While fighting such heavy crime as Concordia does, living twenty more years is no guarantee–actually, I’d give it a thirty percent chance. Nay, twenty-six.” He shook his head, realizing a bit belatedly that it may not be the brightest idea to tell the person he’s recruiting she would likely not survive the experience. “I’m part of an organization, a nation, called Concordia- oh! And my name is Pidge Holt.”

Romelle cocked an eyebrow. “As in Pidge Holt, the biggest elven douchebag known to man? That one?” she replies skeptically. “The one who was an amazing magical inventor?”

“No, that was my father. He died before my birth. The more recent spells were designed by his right-hand man, Kristoff Canyondeep, who also passed away a couple years back. Thus, I have taken over the company.”

“I heard about his death. My friend Morty cried when he found out.”

“Huh. He wasn’t that likeable of a person, really.” Pidge didn’t add this, but Canyondeep had actually been a rather vile man, accepting bribes and selling magic to terrorists. Pidge intended to set the company straight, and thought he’d done a fairly good job of it, given that he’d never been given lessons in business. 

“Well, if the man behind  _ armarisurra _ is behind Concordia, then I will be too. What could go wrong?” The spell, which Pidge well knew, having been the one to invent it, created a shield of fire which protected the self and hurt those who attempted to harm you.

He smirked and gestured for the girl to follow him to the carriage. Boarding the carriage and sitting in the passenger seat, watching him as he took the horse’s reins, Romelle asked, “How does it work? The whole mutant, uh…”

Pidge chimed, “Of course. To put it simply, your mother was given a potion while she was pregnant that enhanced the sequence of your DNA, giving you a few traits of the arctic fox, the flamboyant cuttlefish, and the grey squirrel. While it is strange that your hair wouldn’t change color to be brown in warmer weather, as the arctic fox does, that is why your hair color is white.”

“I can’t imagine my mother accepting anything but a human baby,” Romelle protested. After speaking, she seemingly realized what she’d said and adopted a look of distress.

He ignored it and replied, “Well, you see, the solution was given to her, or rather injected in her, without her consent. A record was made of your birth, but it was left blank but for your name. We would have picked you up in your toddler years had we had the full records, but there must have been some mistake.”

“A mistake?” scoffed Romelle. “How many other times has Concordia made these ‘mistakes’?”

“Too many.”

“Seems fake,” she muttered to herself.

“Concordia has been investigating these events and has found no sign of anything but honest mistakes,” he stated. “But I agree that the likelihood of such accidents happening so many times is very, very low. I suspect foul play is involved and plan to take a closer look at it. Would that make you feel better?”

“And what makes you think you can find anything if Concordia’s investigative team could not?” questioned Romelle, and Pidge suspected she was only asking to see how he would respond. Pidge decided to take the bait. 

“Well, I happen to be more intelligent than all the people on that investigation combined.” He flashed her a grin, which he knew from years looking in the mirror appeared nothing but sinister.

Romelle scoffed with false irritation. “Are you now,” she responded, though he knew by her tone that she believed him. It seemed to Pidge that Romelle thought of him and the rest of Concordia as heroes, which he found strangely charming and quaint. She began staring out the window, and he wondered after about fifteen minutes of silence from her how much she’s hurting. Pidge had never been close enough to anyone that their death bothered him; his father died before his birth, and his godfather, who had also been the carekeeper of his business, was a horrible man and Pidge did not find his death inopportune. As for others, he never took much interest in anyone he was not obligated to interact with. He’d never thought that this might be a problem; relationships of any kind were a distraction from what really matters. And what matters to Pidge Holt II, one might ask? Well, he’d never really figured that out. Perhaps someday he would.

But Romelle knew her parents, they had spilled their blood on her and she still wore it. Considering the situation, it was incredible how calm she was. Perhaps she experienced emotions differently than most, like Pidge does. Perhaps she was in a state of shock. He knew nearly nothing about her; she may have even had animosity toward her parents, though he was inclined to believe that if that had been the case, she’d likely now feel a sense of regret, as it is the rare person who does not have any redeeming qualities, and he suspected the girl’s parents probably didn’t fit into that category. No, he surmised that she only just now felt the effects from her parents’ death, and he realized that this would probably be a journey more cold and lonely than if he had taken it alone.

He looked ahead of him and they were quickly approaching the edge of the mountains. Snow began to crunch beneath Inky’s hooves after perhaps half an hour more, and the temperature droppedperceptibly. Having been altered by a desert animal, Pidge was very much not a fan of any sort of cold weather, and in fact preferred the temperature in the high eighties to mid nineties. This desert animal was the hyena, which also gave him the ability to eat pretty much anything without getting sick. He was also altered by the octopus and the dolphin, both of which increased his intelligence, which he saw as pretty much his only positive trait. He didn’t find this to be a problem, however, as he thought it the only trait that matters.

Pidge had always been smart. He knew that when he was learning to read at two, he knew that when he began teaching himself algebra at six, calculus at nine. He’d been confused about so many other things, though. About why everyone referred to him as male, for one. He supposed he passed pretty well, but that was probably due mostly to breeding, and his race—he was pure high elf, a race that didn’t show many differences between sex other than genitalia—in fact, there were three main sexes in elven biology instead of two, the third being referred to as  _ gizonemakume _ , or androgyne. This sex had both male and female genitals, and could either sire or dam a child, though they could not reproduce asexually. They tended to have the hourglass figure of a female but the muscle capability of males and the lack of a full breast unless currently lactating. Pidge had never known one of these sort personally, but found the concept quite interesting. What he still didn’t understand after a little over eighteen years of life is why he was, and had always been, viewed as male. He was a female elf and had only female genitalia between his legs. 

When he asked his mother about it, she answered that his father wanted his son to be named after him. When she’d asked about if they had a daughter, he’d said that they could just try again.  Perhaps had he lived, this could have gone the way he intended, and named his  _ daughter _ something different, allowed her to live as the gender she was, but he died a month before my birth, and so a son Pidge was.

He’d always admired the long, curly black hair of his mother. He’d always wanted to feel the gentle touch of hair on his spine. He admired the dresses she wore, which were always beautiful and suited her perfectly, and the jewelry she wore about her neck, particularly the garnets and rubies. But he’d never been allowed to wear such pretty things. 

Pidge continued thinking for a long while as snow falls around him and beautiful scenery passes, stark peaks capped with white above them and valleys filled with snow and trees below.

“Do you know of the Angel?” asked Romelle, after a few hours had passed in silence, her voice low, her head still turned toward the window.

“Naturally,” Pidge responded. “Why do you ask?”  _ I don’t know if he exists or not, _ I think.  _ But no legend lies entirely without basis. If the Angel is out there, we surely need him now. _

“Is he one of yours? He can’t be part of Pacificus, right? Everyone says he’s a hero.”

“No,” he murmured. “No, he is not part of Concordia, nor Pacificus. He is a third-party.”

“Should he be?” she wondered, echoing a question that had plagued Pidge for months, ever since he heard the legend of the Angel. 

“It’s rather difficult to say, don’t you think? Perhaps being a third party makes him more righteous than any of us. But every honorable person should unite against Pacificus, and perhaps he could do more good in this land with Concordia than he could ever do on his own. What are your thoughts?”

She continued staring out the window. “I… Well, everyone is stronger if they have friends, right? Maybe having people like us fighting beside him would make him greater than he ever could be alone.”

“I agree with you. Allies do make us stronger. That is why it is so important to recruit as many people to our cause as we possibly can.” Pidge saw the familiar sign on the road as the snow faded and the ground leveled. The sign was the color of redwood and on it, painted in faded red letters, were the words  _ Kingdom of Concordia–go left at the fork. City of Boxgonie–keep right,  _ and below these words,  _ Bakeara Errinua–joezzkarerra al arraila. Boxgonieherri—manteneskuinera.    _  “Concordia approaches,” Pidge said.

An enormous gate made from white alabaster loomed over them like a silent guardian, two statues lining the entrance to the kingdom. In bold Common script was written KINGDOM OF CONCORDIA, and under it in flowing Elvish is written,  _ Bakeara Errinua _ . The statues appear to be idols of the founders of Concordia, a human named Laius McClain and an elf named Leto Xanthas, who married and created, using druidic magic, the first mutant, the current leader of Concordia, General Alfor McClain. The statue of McClain stood on the right, Xanthas on the left, and the two held hands far above the walkway to create the gateway. 

Upon approaching, Pidge whispered, “ _ Kolpatu” _ , and the gate swings open. Romelle glanced at him for the first time in several hours. 

“You know magic?” she asked, eyebrows raised in slight surprise.

“I am an elf. It’s a rather common ability among our people,” he explained. He continued driving the carriage, moving through the gate and approaching the palace that stood perhaps a kilometer or so away. The small village of Concordia was beautiful, each building colorful and clean; not a run-down or decrepit building stands in the town. The palace itself was enormous. It was made from white marble and had emerald green and gold accents, and flowers swirled around the sides and back of the building; much of the palace was open to the air. 

As they got closer, Pidge could see that a person was standing in front of the palace, the Dr. Keith Kogane. The Concordian was a twenty-or-so-year-old androgynous elf who appeared mildly anorexic with long, feathery black hair. A small portion of his hair was braided, the braid trailing down his left shoulder. His eyes were this beautiful color of jay-feather blue, and entirely so; there were no whites in his eyes, nor pupil, as he was blind, and his eyes were larger and more almond-shaped even than most elves. He had smooth, pale skin with a gentle spotting of freckles, and his pointed ears ended in a tuft of black fur. He wore a threadbare black tunic and leggings with a cloak that was similar in both color and age. Sharp fangs stuck out from his thin, worried lips and his nose was small and dainty.

“Hello, Romelle. We’ve been expecting you,” he said as the two stepped out from the carriage, his vocal tone giving no insight as to his gender. His voice was smooth, however, and pleasant to listen to. A human Pidge didn’t recognize took his horse and carriage as the three of them began to walk toward the large golden door that opens into the Temple of Concordia. 

“Who are you?” Romelle asked defensively.

“I am Dr. Keith Kogane. I imagine you are rather confused, as well as upset.” He cocked his head for a moment. “No, you appear to be stifling your emotions. Unhealthy in the long run, but I understand the feeling. Welcome to Concordia. Let’s take a walk.”

Romelle did not appear as though she felt comfortable being alone around him, but also didn’t see how she could say no. Pidge followed the two, more out of a sense of obligation than a desire to.

“I am the chief medical doctor here at the Concord base. If ever you get injured in combat, and you will, you’ll see me. Speaking of which, are you injured?” Keith looked at her for a moment, but didn’t quite meet her eyes. “No, you don’t seem to be physically injured. We don’t have a professional counselor here in Concordia, but I am the closest thing we have. If ever you need emotional help, you can see me in my office. Speaking of which…” The three of them reached an opening in the dark maroon halls, and Keith gestured with his hand, which had sheathed claws rather than fingernails, at the door. “This is my office, indicated by the nametag on the door.” On the door, it read, first in Common and then in Braille,  _ Dr. Keith Kogane _ . “Again, if you need emotional support, you can feel free to come here. If I am not here, I am most likely either sleeping in my room or in the medical bay, which you’ll see later.”

“More likely sleeping in their room, though,” Pidge noted drolly. “Or in their office… or even in the medical bay…”

Keith flashed him a look that Pidge recognized as good-humored irritation. Though he was blind, Keith’s eyes had not lost their ability to express emotion. “That’s what I meant. I will either be sleeping in my room, office or the medical bay. You can just wake me up if you find me sleeping. I’ll try not to claw you.” Romelle was unable to recognize whether the blood elf was joking. They continued walking for a time, and they came to a large space with many tables crowned by black marble. Romelle, after a second, looked quite alarmed, seemingly out of nowhere.

Keith smiled sheepishly. “I’m sorry, did you not say that aloud? I make that mistake sometimes with new recruits. I didn’t mean to scare you.” 

“Keith?” Pidge responded with a hint of humor. “You didn’t say anything aloud, either.”

“Really? Huh. Oops.”

“Can you…  _ not _ read my mind?” requested Romelle. “Please?”

Keith chuckled a bit. “Unfortunately, no. I cannot not read your mind, as I have very little control to speak of over my telepathic and empathic powers. Actually, most of the people here have trouble controlling some part of their abilities, but…”

“Keith’s are the most complicated, and no one else has those powers, which makes helping them train nearly impossible,” Pidge explained. 

“Anyway, would you like to get something to eat? I have matters to attend to, so I imagine I’ll see the two of you later.” He turned to walk away, then paused to look back, but didn’t quite look at the place they are. “Oh! And the General wanted you to know, Pidge, that he thinks you should train her.” At this he left them in the entrance to the cafeteria.

“Uh, Pidge?” asked Romelle.

“Yes, Romelle?”

“What gender is Keith?”

Pidge smiled. “It is rather difficult to tell, isn’t it? Well, though I have never seen him undressed, and certainly have never had an extended conversation about his gender orientation with him, as far as I’m aware he is male.”

“Uh… OK, I guess.” The two of them got cafeteria garden burgers, which were absolute misery to the tastebuds, though Romelle didn’t seem to mind. Perhaps she was used to it. Afterwards, he brought her through the rest of the temple. The place felt like a luxury hotel, with its black marble cafeteria tables, its crown moulding and painted ceilings. It was too… much. The hallways, with their famous paintings and chandeliers and maroon floors and golden walls, seemed dark and oppressive. This was only true of the front half of the temple, however. The back half was radically different, with floor-to-ceiling windows, skylights, white walls and, climbing up the side, ivy with white bell-shaped blossoms. Parts of it were open air, with bright pink and red flowers growing through the openings and sunny balconies enveloped with beautiful blue blossoms and bright green leaves every thirty meters or so. Violet and green hummingbirds flitted around them like tiny fairies. The back half also held all of the training rooms.

“I had a bedroom prepped for you, Romelle. They call this place Lux Aurumque, or the Palace of Light and Gold. Your bedroom is across the hall from mine, so just come over if you need anything.” He brought her to her bedroom, room number 430, which was in the light half of Lux Aurumque. “It’s also called the Temple of Concordia, but that’s a rather boring name, don’t you agree?”

Romelle nodded absently, walking into her room and shutting the door. After a few moments, he heard the sounds of sobbing from the room. Pidge considered walking into the room, but decided against it when the thought occurred to him that he was possibly the least comforting person on the planet. He smiled self-deprecatingly at the thought.


	2. Chapter II; Angel

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lance comes to Concordia for the first time and meets Hunk and Keith. Hunk is mildly Australian.

1204-04-25

Boxgonie Wood

Lance loved the feeling of the wind beneath his wings, the clouds dampening his russet brown skin and his long auburn hair. What he didn’t love quite as much was the fact that he didn’t know precisely where he was. The problem with being well-travelled but inattentive was that he knew there were trees beneath him, and for most people, that would be enough to indicate at least approximately where they were; but Lance had been through many forests in his time, most notably the Boxgonie Wood and the Misty Woods. He knew that the forest beneath him was quite large, but not which of the two major forests in the land it might be.

Lance descended through the canopy, landing on the ground and flapping his wings to keep himself from face-planting (yes, this had happened before, and yes, it was embarrassing). He saw that a decent-sized city that was obviously of Elven make up ahead, and decided he was probably in the Boxgonie Wood. He saw a sign that read in the Elvish script  _ Gatore _ . He walked into the city and was met almost immediately by a wood elf with a dark tan and long green hair, pulled up in a loose bun. 

“Hello,  _ Bihotzegia _ ,” he greeted Lance in Elvish.

“Hello, stranger,” he replies. “Do you know the way to the kingdom of Concordia?”

“Yes. You must follow the footpath east, and when you reach the edge of the wood, there will be a sign pointing you south. Following the signs should lead you to your destination,  _ Bihotzegia _ .”

“Thank you. May I trouble you for your name, kind stranger?”

“It is Saolas. Thank you for your bravery.” He bowed slightly, then retreated into the trees.

Lance followed the path he was given and after an hour or so, reached the signpost that signaled the approach of my destination. 

He saw it then, the Palace of Light and Gold. Golden onion domes sat atop white stone towers, and blooming ivy crawled all over the sides and back of the building. Beautiful balconies appeared along the length of the temple. It was the prettiest building he’d seen in all his eighteen years of living. 

He walked through the front gate then, whistling a little bit. Even though Lance had foul news to share, it was such a beautiful day that he couldn’t help feeling joyful. 

As he approached the temple, Lance noticed a silver-haired man who’s too young to have this color of hair, perhaps in his mid-twenties, and seemed shocked to see him. He had fox ears on the top of his head rather than those found on a human, and he was wearing a low-cut tunic and leggings made out of the same naples yellow fabric. The clothing looked suspiciously like pajamas.

“Hello!” Lance greeted him. As soon as he spoke, however, the sound of screaming broke out behind him.

“You’re the Angel, aren’t you? What’s going on here?” the man growled. The sound of his racing heart was a little distracting. “We need reinforcements,” he said in a lower voice.

Lance’s heart sank.  _ I’m too late _ , he thought, despairing _. _ “I come bearing news of an evil enemy–but it appears I am late. My father is alive, and his heart is darker than ever.”

“I don’t know or care who your pa is, kid. We have bigger problems.” The man’s daffodil-colored eyes were focused on the streets behind me. I glance that way and see a veritable army of Pacifican soldiers clad in blue and black.

“No, that’s what I’m trying to tell you—this would be easier if I knew your name. Mine is Lance McClain.”

“Hunk Garrett–wait, your father–” He looked more startled than ever.

“Is Alfor McClain. He has founded an organization of greater evil than you could possibly imagine. His dark nation is known as Pacificus, and has already begun recruitment; in fact, his army is reaching maturity–the first wave, anyway. It’s bad, Hunk. It’s really bad.”

“And all those people—” 

“Those are the soldiers of Pacificus.”

“What do they want?” 

“There’s no more time to explain. We need to fight them off.” I prepared to take off, but Hunk grabbed my arm. 

“Wait up, mate. You’ll kill yourself. I already called for reinforcements. There’s not much we can do until they get here.”

“Speak for yourself. Stay where it’s safe, if you don’t think you can handle it. But don’t you try to prevent me from saving those people’s lives,” Lance insisted, pulling his arm from the man’s grasp and taking off into the air toward the soldiers.

Flipping back to face Hunk, Lance made a peace sign with his right hand and drew my bow with the left, and then let the wind catch his wings, stopping him from falling any further. He saw the glimmer of long blonde hair below him and cleanly shot an arrow through her left eye, which he saw was blue. She collapsed to the ground. He was around a hundred feet above the ground at this point, and he shot three more well-aimed arrows that downed their victims before a man got a lucky shot in on my wing with his repeating crossbow and sent me plummeting.

He rolled with the impact of landing, and though he might have fractured a bone somewhere in his left wrist, he was fine. He sheathed his bow and pulled out his shortsword, slicing a man in front of him from sternum to groin and cutting off another’s arms.

“Lance?” asked a voice, and as he turned Lance saw a familiar face.

“Acxa? Hi,” he responded. The girl was maybe seventeen years in age and had short red hair and very pale skin. More than that, he’d only seen glimpses, as Acxa wore red-and-blue clothing that covered all her skin but the area around her eyes, which were a beautiful color of periwinkle. No, that was a lie—he’d definitely seen her undressed.  “How are you?”

“You’ve been gone for two years, Lance! Where have you been? I’ve missed you!”

“I’ve missed you, too—” he responded, but he was interrupted by the touch of a gloved hand on his chest. He saw her other hand pull down the veil as she pressed her lips against mine.

Lance closed his eyes, enjoying the touch despite the inevitable consequences. “Acxa, don’t go,” he murmured after a moment, and the last thing he saw was a smirk on her face, and her eyes were steel.

Lance woke after a moment, and Acxa was gone. Hunk was standing above me, hands on hips. There seemed to be a slight pause in the battle.

“Smooching the enemy, are we, mate?” he asked, grinning. “Don’t worry, kid–I got y’back. You really told me back there, y’know? I’m no coward. So let’s do this thing.”

“Thank you, Hunk. I will gladly fight beside you.”

They continued fighting, and Hunk seemed to be almost as skilled as he was.  _ Almost _ . Then orange-and-green pegasus-drawn carriages swarmed the sky, and Lance and Hunk smiled up at them, knowing the battle was won.

Pacificus seemed to know this as well, because almost as soon as our reinforcements appeared, the soldiers disappeared like magic.

“Alright, Lance. Let’s see what the General has to say about you. Christy! I could use a pick-up.”

Soon after his words, a carriage in the Concordian colors lands next to them. The wheels were painted pink, however, and the pegasuses were white with a hot pink mane. The door opens, and Lance saw a person—a blood elf—who had blue sclera and slightly lighter irises, shaggy brown hair with a collection of golden streaks within it, sharp fangs sticking up from his lip, and pretty features. They wore a green tunic over a black shirt, tan pants and short leather boots. Their elven ears were large, and white fur stuck out from them, the top and back covered in darker fur. A golden brown spotted tail flicked in the air behind them.

“Hunk Garrett. What am I going to do with you?” they said, their voice not giving Lance any clue as to their gender.

“Well, I’d say you should do the do with me, but I’m taken.” The blood elf’s look of dismay made Lance smile.

“And straight!” added the driver in the front seat, who Lance suspected was the ‘Christy’ Hunk had named earlier.

“Eh, I prefer hetero-flexible,” replied Hunk with a flamboyant grin. “Anyway, this is the General’s kid nephew, Lance.”

“A pleasure,” Lance greeted them, bowing a bit. 

“I am Dr. Keith Kogane. It’s nice to meet you, Lance.”

“I’m Christine Jackson,” greeted the driver. “Most everyone calls me Christy, though.” The woman had curly blonde hair, brown eyes, and a large bosom, and wore a dark green jumpsuit with a low-cut neckline. 

“Hello, Keith. Hello, Christine. It’s very nice to meet you. I only wish it were under different circumstances.”

“You must explain everything you can, Lance,” insisted Keith as we enter the carriage. The helicopter took off and followed the rest of the fleet back to Concordia’s base, the legendary palace Lux Aurumque.

“It’s probably better if I wait until my uncle can hear what I have to say. It’s a long story, and I don’t really want to tell it twice.”

“Fair enough. Alexa or Alfor?” he asked.

“Alfor,” answered Lance. Alexa was his aunt, and had died well before his birth–in fact, her death was one of the events that sent his father down the road of insanity. 

“I didn’t think you looked old enough to be Alexa’s lad—but then, I thought Alfor kicked the bucket around the same time, didn’t he?” said Hunk. 

“No, he is alive and utterly insane. If you ever knew him, Keith, you don’t anymore.”

“I was barely seven when he and his sister disappeared,” he responded. “I knew him, but not well. My father and your uncle were close, but dear old dad wasn’t so fond of Alfor. He sensed something dark in him. I suppose he was right all along.”

“I suppose so,” Lance sighed. “Is your father still with us?”

“No, he died when I was thirteen. My sister was only eight. Since then, she’s been… detached. Our mother can’t get her to do anything, and she doesn’t care much about my opinion, either. She’s been dating someone… someone, er…”

“Morally ambiguous?” Lance suggested.

Keith smiled sadly. “Something like that. Anyway, she’s a lesbian, though I’m not sure she knows it yet. She’s only dating him to upset Mother, and God knows it’s working.”

“Wow, Keith, I haven’t seen you open up this much… uh, ever,” commented Hunk, looking a little—was that jealousy? Whatever it was, Hunk wasn’t too pleased. “And I’m supposed to be your best friend.”

“There’s something… soothing about his presence,” answered Keith, furrowing his brow.

Lance reached over to where Keith was sitting and swept a tuft of black hair from their face. Their hair was soft—softer than anything he’d ever felt. He felt a sudden urge to press his face into the other’s neck, but he resisted the impulse, as such an action couldn’t really be perceived any way but as bizarre. 

A look of amusement danced across Keith’s face.  _ Does he have some sort of psychic abilities? _ Lance wondered, smelling a sudden hint of grapefruit in the air.

“I do,” responded Keith inside my mind, their voice a little higher mentally than it was verbally, and softer, more lyrical. “I am a telepath, Lance.”

_ That’s really cool, _ he thought, this time attempting to communicate with them. 

_ You’re not afraid of me? _ responded Keith. Notes of confusion mixed with hesitant joy filled the air, the scent of magnolia and thyme. 

_ Why would I be? _ Lance thought, smiling at the elf.  _ It’s really neat _ .

_ I… I cannot believe there is one in this world who does not fear me, _ they responded, and he felt the rawness they felt within his very bones, as the smells of magnolia and citrus wafted around us. Keith was happy, Lance could tell, but there was also something else there; perhaps the realization that it had been possible all this time for them to be happy, and they were never allowed that. It was almost bitterness, though this quickly cedes to the contentment.

_ I am not afraid of you, Keith. I will never be afraid of you. _

**Author's Note:**

> Thank y'all for reading! Your comments are highly appreciated! I hope you enjoyed reading, and if you have questions, please leave them in the comments! I'll do my best to answer them, if not in a comment then in the notes of the next chapter!


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